


Welcome Home

by improbableZero



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Blindfolds, Dirty Talk, Dom Jake, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Sub Dirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/improbableZero/pseuds/improbableZero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jake comes home, you go to greet him just as he likes you to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent smut, no more, no less. Might be a bit (or a lot) OOC, depends on your perspective.

When Jake comes home, you go to greet him just as he likes you to. Once he's closed the door behind him, you slip his coat from his shoulders, hang it up, and sink gracefully to your knees, bowing your head forward and resting your hands palm-down on your thighs. You're barefoot and shirtless, just as he left you this morning.

"Good boy," he tells you, running a hand through your messy hair and resting it at the back of your neck.

Even though you've heard that exact phrase every day for nearly four months now, the praise still sends a shiver down your spine. You glance up at him through your eyelashes—he's smiling, but it's not the standard goober grin he wears in public; it's warmer, darker, more intent. "Welcome home, Sir," you murmur.

Jake's nails scratch against your scalp as he takes a firmer grip on your hair, tugging just a little bit, just a reminder. You whine under your breath, and he chuckles. "Miss me, Dirk?" he asks, half-jokingly.

"Yes, Sir," you answer, dead serious. You do all right on your own—you prefer it, in some ways, especially since a lack of distractions makes it a lot easier to get things that are non-Jake-related done—but when Jake's there, everything is better.

"How much?" he asks, tugging at your hair again to get you to shuffle forward until your knees collide with his feet.

"I don't understand, Sir." You look up at him again, more openly this time, your eyes soft and wide. You're never sure how much of this posture is genuine and how much is an act, but you don't really care. You get off on it and Jake gets off on it, so what does it matter if it's 100% sincere or not?

"How much did you miss me?" Jake asks, and he tugs your head forward until your forehead collides with his thigh.

Your mouth goes dry as comprehension dawns. "Please, Sir, let me show you," you say, tilting your head up to nose the thickening bulge in Jake's pants. He likes it when you beg, when you ask politely for things you want, so you do it as often as possible.

"And how would you do that?" Jake asks, his voice soft, low-pitched. It sends a bolt of arousal straight down your spine, and you whimper.

"Please Sir," you say, "let me suck your cock." A note of desperation has crept into your voice, and you honestly can't tell if you meant to do that or not.

Jake's smile breaks into a full-on smirk. "I think I'll need a little more convincing," he says, and oh god his voice is practically a purr. Your hands twitch against your thighs.

"Please," you say, pulling words together as you go, "please, Sir, let me swallow you down, I want you to fuck my face until I can't breathe, please let me make you feel good until you come on my face, mark me as yours, please, Sir—"

"That's enough," he says, pressing a hand to your mouth to cut you off. You restrain your automatic impulse to bite; you tried that once, back when the two of you were still getting into the swing of things, and the result (Jake spanking you until you cried, then leaving you alone and not letting you come) was an effective deterrent. "I'm convinced," Jake continues. "Go on, Dirk. No hands." He takes the hand on your mouth away, but leaves the one in your hair where it is.

You kneel up and lock your hands together behind your back, leaning forward to undo the button of Jake's trousers with your teeth. It's a bit of a challenge, but the zipper goes down easily, even though you have to be careful not to catch anything in it. You nudge the fly of his pants open, then tug down the waistband of his underwear until his cock slips free. He's hard already, and you shift a little to try to relieve the uncomfortable pressure on your own erection. It'll be your turn later, if you're good, so you put it out of your mind for now.

You take him into your mouth, eyes closed, wrapping your lips around his head and flicking your tongue back and forth across his skin. You're trembling already—sucking Jake off is one of your favorite things to do—and Jake notices.

"Golly, you're—hnn—eager," he says, stroking your hair. His voice is shaking, which you're damn proud of.

You slide your mouth off his cock with a wet pop and murmur, "Been thinking about this all day," then take him as far as you can. It's not a lie—you've been idly fantasizing off and on since you woke up this morning, and you didn't jerk off because Jake's ordered you not to when he's not watching.

"Good boy," Jake purrs, pulling you back by your hair. You look up at him, wide-eyed and flushed-lipped. You try to dart your tongue forward enough to lick him, but he growls and yanks on your hair. You whine. "No more," Jake says, and lets you go, and you bow your head again, hands still clasped together behind your back.

"I'm sorry, Sir," you say. You're not sure if you're genuinely sorry, but it's the expected phrase and you like following your lines, playing your part.

"It's okay," Jake says. He tilts your chin up and brushes a spot of drool off your chin. "My good boy."

You shudder, hard, and shift a little again. "Yours, Sir." That you know for certain is true—you're entirely his, in body, heart, and mind, and you know it and you know that he knows it too. It scares you a little when you think about it, so you don't, much.

Jake's hand is back in your hair, petting gently rather than pulling, and you purr and nudge into his touch just a little. You're about 90% certain that if he keeps doing that you'll fall asleep on his feet, and while you have no objections to that you're pretty sure he's got something else in mind for this evening. "My good boy," Jake repeats, and you shiver and relax. Your knees are starting to hurt, and you briefly contemplate laying down some kind of cushion tomorrow while Jake's at work before you put the discomfort out of your mind.

Then Jake stops touching you entirely and tucks his still-hard cock back into his trousers and what, no, what is he doing? You whine your disapproval and he chuckles.

"No need for such a long face, Dirk," he says. "I simply thought that a more comfortable venue might be more amenable than the doorway of the apartment. C'mon, up you get, there's a good boy." He gets his hands under your arms and tugs gently to pull you to your feet.

You stand, legs wobbly, and follow him to your shared bedroom. He leads you over to the bed and pushes you down until you're flat on your back with his hands on either side of your head and his knees bracketing your hips.

"Now then," Jake says, a predatory grin on his face. You swallow a whimper and stay absolutely still. "I plan to fuck you until you're begging me to let you come, then let you choke on my cock some more. You look so lovely on your knees for me, after all, with your mouth stuffed full and those pretty lips of yours wrapped around me. Then I think I'll come on your face— _if_ you ask nicely enough."

You outright whine at that, squirming under him, desperately trying to get a bit of friction, anything at all. Jake chuckles and leans down to brush a kiss against your collarbone. "Any questions?" he says, following the kiss with a sharp bite.

You groan. "Sir," you start, then pause and lick your lips. "Sir, will I get to come?" You're not sure which answer you'd prefer, honestly.

"If you're good," Jake says, then unstraddles your lap (what, no, why) and sits off to the side. He leans over to the nightstand, pulls out the bottle of lube, and tosses it to you. "Get yourself ready," he orders. "Unless you have any objections to my plan?"

You swallow hard and catch the bottle, holding it between your hands to warm it up. "No objections, Sir," you say as you wriggle out of your pants and underwear. Once they're off, you toss them aside and spread your knees, popping the lube open and coating your fingers.

"Then put on a show for me," Jake says, removing his own clothing and chucking it over to join yours. "I know you like it when I watch you." He settles back against the wall and fixes his gaze on you, hand resting on his thigh. "Go on. I want to hear you begging for my cock by the time you're done."

You swallow a moan, then choke on it when you press your index finger into yourself. Normally you'd rather get straight to the point, but Jake's completely right about you liking it when he watches you, and he did order you to put on a show, so you think you'll tease yourself a little. Maybe a lot, given that you know he likes seeing you undone for him.

You watch his face as you move your finger inside yourself, waiting for a nod from him before you add another, then another. You're leaning back on your free elbow, propped up enough to see Jake but not enough to block his view. You're making little breathless whimpery noises, your eyes nearly closed and your lips slightly parted. Your mind is wonderfully, blissfully blank apart from pure sensation and your growing need to have Jake inside you right the fuck now, but you manage to muster up a few words.

"Sir, please, I need you," you say. "I—fuck—I need you insi—nnnn—inside me, please, nn, please fuck me 'til I'm screaming, I want—oh god—I want your cock so badly, please, ah—" You cut yourself off, embarrassed, and Jake smiles at you.

"Good, Dirk," he says. He's stroking his cock idly, just as much showing off for you as you are for him, and you pant quietly and try to be patient. "Such a good boy," he continues. "I could indubitably listen to you beg and plead with me for hours, but luckily for you I plan to get right down to business. I'm going to blindfold you, and you're not to touch yourself at all. Is that clear?"

You groan your assent, still working your fingers inside yourself. Jake leans over to tug your wrist away and you let him, sighing at the loss. You close your eyes obediently, waiting for the dark strip of cloth to be tied across them. Jake pets your hair as he fastens it, then you hear him rustling about in the drawers of the nightstand, the bed shifting under his weight. The cap of the lube bottle clicks again, you flop onto your back with your wrists crossed above your head to reduce temptation, and the tip of something nudges into you.

It is very obviously not Jake's cock.

"What," you manage.

"I never said what I'd fuck you _with_ ," says Jake, and oh, you can _hear_ that dark grin in his voice. "It just so happens that I have a bit of work I need to get done this evening, so I'm going to have to ask you to be patient. Can you do that for me, Dirk?" The entire time he's talking, he's pushing the—dildo? Vibrator? You guess you'll find out—steadily into you, and by the time he's done speaking it's fully settled.

"I—yes, Sir," you say. You're kind of disappointed by the change in plans—you don't really like it when things don't go as you expected them to—but you're willing to be patient for Jake. "I'll wait, I'll be good."

"Good boy," says Jake, and strokes your hair again. "I should be back before too long. Give it twenty minutes."

You're not sure you can handle ten minutes, much less twenty—you're worked up enough to just about explode, from thinking about this all day and sucking Jake's cock earlier and fingering yourself just now. "Please," you beg, not quite sure exactly what you're asking for.

"Shh." Jake pets your hair for another thirty seconds or so, then you feel the bed shift under his weight again as he stands. "Just be patient. You can do it. I have the utmost faith in you."

You take a deep breath and relax, nodding. Jake believes you can do it, so you can do it.

Then there's a click and the—yup, it's a vibrator—inside you turns on. You nearly scream, managing at the last minute to turn it into a choked-off sound of need. You're going to come in about ten seconds flat, permission or no permission—but then the vibration dies down to something strong enough to be noticeable, but too weak to be satisfying.

"Don't come until I say you can," Jake says, then you hear his footsteps shuffling away across the carpet.

You do your best to focus on your surroundings rather than the insistent pressure and vibration inside you and the hot coil of need in your belly. You can hear the faint buzz of the light and the ticka-ticka-ticka of Jake's keyboard, and the sheets of your bed are soft, cool, and faintly rustly against your skin. You breathe deeply and slowly and tap your fingers against the palms of your hands, focusing on keeping the rhythm steady.

By the time the clicking of Jake's keyboard ceases, you've lost all sense of time and you're shaking so hard you think you might fly apart. You whimper when he takes your wrists in his hands and pulls them down until they're folded across your chest, and you tilt your face up into his hand when he strokes your cheek. You're so hard, holy shit, you could go off any second if only Jake would say the word.

Jake undoes the blindfold, kisses your eyelids so gently, and you start crying. You're completely overwhelmed with emotion and sensation and there's Jake, shushing you and kissing tears off your face.

"You're so good, Dirk," he's murmuring, "such a good boy, you've done so bloody well, I'm so pleased with you." You gasp a soft, desperate _please,_ and he draws back, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stroking your cock lightly. You sob, your hips twitching up into his hand—and then he leans down and murmurs into your ear, "Go on, come for me now, there's a good boy," and you're done, shooting your load into his hand with a cry.

The vibrator's still buzzing away inside you when Jake stands up, tugs you into a sitting position, and drags you off the bed, your knees hitting the floor with a thud. You don't even care about the pain of the impact, because Jake's still naked and hard and you wrap your lips around his cock, taking him as far as you can go and sucking hard, groaning in pleasure.

He tugs on your hair gently, guiding you back and forth, then he holds your head in place as he fucks your mouth, slow and steady, because you were _good_ and this is your reward. Your eyes drop shut and you focus on not gagging and on breathing when you can, your hands still folded together at your chest. Jake pulls out of your mouth just in time to come on your face like he promised he might, his release striping across your closed eyelids and cheeks and nose and mouth. You lick your lips, tasting him, and moan, overstimulated and overwhelmed and exhausted.

Jake tugs you to your feet, switches the vibrator off and pulls it gently out of you, lays you down on the bed and lies down next to you. He wipes your face off with a handful of tissues, doing the same to his hand, then peppers your face and neck with kisses, murmuring praise near-constantly under his breath.

You cling to him, practically purring, and mumble out "yes, Sir"s and "thank you, Sir"s when appropriate. He strokes your hair and lays his hand on the back of your neck, providing reassurance that you are completely and utterly _his_ and anchoring you in your body when you might otherwise drift away. You fall asleep almost instantly, snuggled close to Jake and feeling safe and content.


End file.
